The men were silent.
“Who suffered, fought with you, if not I? Who saved your lives under fire, if not Yashka? Don’t you remember what I did for your comrades at Narotch, when, up to my armpits in mud, I dragged dozens of you to safety and life?”
Here, I turned abruptly on a gaping fellow, looked directly at him and asked:
“Suppose the rank and file were to elect their own officers. Now, what would you do in the Commander’s place, if you were chosen? You are a plain soldier, of the people. Tell me what you would do!” I thundered.
The man looked foolish, making an effort to laugh.
“Ha, I would see,” he said, “once I got there.”
“That is no answer. Tell me what you would do if our Corps were in the trenches and another one refused to relieve it. What would you do? What?” I demanded of the whole crowd.
“Would you hold the trenches indefinitely or leave? Answer me that!”
“Well, we would leave, anyhow,” replied a number of men.
“But what are you here for,” I shouted fiercely, “to hold the trenches or not?”